


I'm Just a Fool

by justanothersong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Human, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothersong/pseuds/justanothersong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth angel<br/>Earth angel<br/>The one I adore<br/>Love you forever<br/>And ever more<br/>I'm just a fool<br/>A fool in love<br/>With you</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Just a Fool

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anastiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/gifts).



> Inspired primarily by this [post](http://anastiel.tumblr.com/post/95873986127/no-but-dean-and-cas-dancing-to-old-doo-wop-music), this [images](http://theeyeoffaith.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/two-1950s-rockabilly-teens-vintage-mens-fashion-style-inspiration-the-devil-may-care.jpg), and this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJcGi4-n_Yw).

Dean had always liked Missouri Mosely’s place. It was on the outskirts of town, because most folk didn’t welcome her crowd in the town proper, but no one who frequented the place seemed to care. The air was always thick with smoke and there was usually someone crooning on stage; later into the night, when things died down and Missouri kept the doors open and the lights burning for a different sort of crowd, there was a juke in the corner to keep the place swinging. The cops used to try and run the place through every now and again, but Missouri ran a tight ship and kept things as far on the legal side as she could. It helped that she had friends in town, the owner of a soda shop, some of the teachers at the local high school, even a county sheriff.

Things were changing, Dean knew, and some day Missouri might be able to get a nicer place, downtown and open for just about everyone, except for guys like Dean. For the time being, he’d enjoy the welcome he had there. 

His father didn’t like that Dean went there, though the older man was just lost in his own prejudice and too blind to see past it. Too blind, even, to see that it wasn’t the music that drew Dean at all, but something else, something only a handful of people in town knew about at all. Still, they fought about it, arguing every night when John Winchester saw his son slipping on his flannel jacket and heading for the door, cuffs of his jeans rolled up over his boots and the keys to his ’34 Chevy Standard jingling in his hand. John tried to grab his arm now and again, stop him at the door, but Dean’s stepmother was always there, swatting his father away and telling him to ‘just let the boy be, John, for heaven’s sake, there’s no harm in it’.

Dean could slip out while they argued the matter, his younger brother watching with wide curious eyes from an upstairs window, where he was supposed to be tucked into his rodeo bed sheets. Dean would wave over his shoulder at the boy, glad he still had a few years before their father’s wrath would likely turn on little Sam, and hop in his Chevy. The car was a matter of personal pride for Dean; while the other kids he knew were falling all over themselves for Bel Airs and Caddies, Dean loved his Standard, his baby. He had helped build her from the ground up with his old man, before John decided he didn’t like the ‘attitude’ his eldest son had developed, but in spite of that, she was still Dean’s baby, his pride and joy. They just didn’t make’em like that anymore.

 

He took her into town, cruising the main strip and stopping off for a burger at Ellen’s place. The matronly proprietor had caused a bit of a stir in their small town, taking over the business when her husband passed some ten years prior, in a place where it was still considered odd for a woman to be working outside the home at all, let alone on her own. Dean thought that was maybe why she and Missouri had struck up a friendship; small Kansas towns didn’t treat their women well, and even worse if they didn’t have the ‘right’ skin. 

Some of the kids from his school were always there and they palled around a while, Dean spending most of his time nodding and listening as the others spoke, feeling a little outside of their conversations, a little outside of that circle. He’d always felt a little different, been kept at arms length from the others kids; when he was little, it was the stigma of a dead mother and a drunk father, and later, the somehow worse situation of a pretty stepmother, years too young for his father. John Winchester had quit drinking and cleaned himself up, marrying a nurse right out of school who promptly left her career behind and set about mothering Dean and his brother Sam, bringing a new son into the fold a year or so afterwards. 

Dean still felt different. Out of sorts. It started making more sense as he got older, found his way, found Missouri’s place.

 

It got later and the other kids from his school started heading home, Dean waving off an invitation for an impromptu party out in some farmer’s abandoned field, pretending he was heading home but really getting anxious to get to Missouri’s. Whoever she had playing that night would be finishing up, and he had a few dimes jangling in his pocket for the jukebox, and a dollar or two left for a drink.

The building itself was unremarkable, seeming almost ramshackle, set to the side of a crossroads just over the town line. There was no sign at all but the windows were lit up from the inside, frosted over with condensation making everything seem bright and blurry from an outside vantage. There were a few cars parked in the little lot and one motorcycle, but it was the old Schwinn Black Phantom leaned up against the side of the building that made Dean grin, and he eased the Standard into a spot near to it, hopping out and trying to slow his walk to not seem quite so anxious.

He paused outside the doors, grabbing the comb from his back pocket and sweeping his dirty blonde hair back from his face, checking his reflection just a moment in the reflection of the window, and then headed inside.

 

Missouri was behind the bar and gave him a kind smile, washing out a beer mug and shaking her head. The wide wooden plank floors creaked gently under his feet, and the place smelled heavily of cigar smoke and old booze, the usual for this time of night. There weren’t too many people inside, and the only music playing was the jazzy tune the juke ran when no one had queued up anything special. Dean was nervous – always was, these nights – and stopped at the bar a moment, asking for a glass of whiskey and getting an eyeroll and a glass of water from Missouri, an old joke between the two of them. He downed the clear liquid quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, before heading towards the jukebox to drop in his first dime.

Dean didn’t even have to search through the song listings, fingers quickly punching in the letters and numbers he had known by heart for ages now, F-2-3. He watched the records swap out inside the machine and just as the player put its needle down to vinyl, there was a hand on his arm.

Cas has worn his denim jacket that night, open over a plain t-shirt, and jeans in a darker shade of blue, cuffs rolled up just like Dean’s. They wore the same boots, the style pretty much all that was available in town, and Cas’ dark hair was swept back and to the side, away from his face, leaving bright blue eyes to follow Dean’s expressions as they met.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said, still a little shaky, even after all this time.

A slight smile crossed Cas’ pale pink lips. “Hello Dean,” he replied, and those were the only words they needed.

 

No one in the bar said a word as the two started dancing, held close together while the Penguins sang ‘Earth Angel’ from the speakers of the jukebox. No one ever would; they wouldn’t be bothered here, free to be themselves and to have this time like nowhere else they knew. Cas’ arm circled around Dean’s lower back, pulling him closer, and their lips brushed more than once as their song played. A few others got up to dance but they paid them no mind, too caught up in each other to even notice. 

Dean closed his eyes and let his head fall to Cas’ shoulder, enjoying the feel of lean muscle pressed against him, the scent of a drugstore cologne that he had come to associate exclusively with Cas filling up his senses, heady and wonderful.

They would only have a little while before the night would grow too late and they would have to part, Dean to work for his father’s garage early that Sunday morning, and Cas to accompany his family to church. Dean thought things might be different, after they graduated; they could go off to school somewhere, have a dorm together, and after they graduated share a bachelor pad and pretend to just be roommates. But tonight, they could dance; they could have their song. It would be enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://literatec.tumblr.com), if you wish.
> 
> Please do not add this, or any of my posted works, to Goodreads. Thank you.


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